i half-assed the beginning so sorry

Morty pushed his food around his plate, staring at it aimlessly.

"Well Morty, what is your future going look like? When you're just—you're just barely—barely scraping by. You need to start thinking about this seriously, what you're going to do and how you're going to buck up. You're not going to get anywhere in life with barely passing grades."

Jerry's silverware clanked loudly against his plate. It was clear he wasn't used to be an authoritative parent or that he really wanted to to begin, but that he was trying to impress someone, but it scared Morty anyway.

"It's just, I don't know Dad. I'm just—it's hard. It's har—"

"You're regressing. It's just like before your grandfather got here."

"Jerry—" Beth warned.

"Beth!" Jerry shot her a glare

Summer pulled into herself.

"Ever since he died that kid's been struggling. I know it's tough, but that was September. He's got to get out of it sometime!"

"Jerry," Beth's eyes watered, "I don't really think that's the way to go about fixing this." Her voice was stern.

Jerry fidgeted in his seat. "I just, you know… he needs someone to snap him out of it, you know?" He fidgeted even more under Beth's glare. "He's just gotta, you know, he needs someone to tell him to get over it you know, man u—"

"I can't believe I had kids with you."

Jerry straightened, eyes wide. Summer bit her lip.

"It's not that, that we—!"

"I don't care, Jerry. I don't care."

He sat unsure of what to do.

"I can't believe I married you. I need to go. I need to get out of here. I'm tired of you right now. I'm taking that trip I always talked to you about. I need to get away."

"Beth, I'm just trying to—"

"You're always trying, Jerry, it never works. I need to be with someone who succeeds. I don't think I can do this anymore. What are you? Unemployed, can barely hold a job? I don't care, Jerry, I can't be around you."

Jerry shot a glance at Morty to try to change the subject to him.

"Look at Morty, Beth! Where's he going to be, really?" He cared about where his kid was going to end up, but not enough to immediately involve himself in his life to help him get where he wanted to be.

"I don't know Jerry. He needs, I don't know. I'm leaving. I'm packing my bags."

Morty's eyes watered.

"Beth, please…."

"No, Jerry, I don't think you understand. It's not working. We're not made for each other. It's not like we, like we really chose this. It was an accident, Jerry. An accident." Her voice started to heat.

Then they got to fighting.

That's all they really ever seemed to do anymore. It was unbearable. His mom rose from her seat throwing her hands about, Jerry retreated into himself. He knew his mom was done with his dad, but he was still trying to hold on. Angry voices filled the dining room, Summer trying to mediate between the two. The whole room tensed like something big was happening. Finally he couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm gonna go," Morty suddenly interrupted, excusing himself from the table, barely giving attention to his plate full of food.

He staggered through the living room, ignoring the voices warning after him to the green-carpeted hall, flung the door to his room open and stepped inside, slamming it behind him with his back. Burying his head in his hands, he slowly sunk to the floor.

Rough, dirty carpet splayed under him, bits of miscellaneous trash and other filth littering fibers. Pulling his face from his hands, he scrutinized his room through welled eyes—the small bed with it's old mattress, nostalgic toys and movie memorabilia lining his shelves and dresser, various posters and pin-ups adorning the walls haphazardly, corners hanging down limply as if they were dogeared to their single page, a barren desk where an out-of-shape chair sat. Summer's room was so much nicer.

A twisted frown contorted his face. His room exuded neglect. Ever since Rick left, he'd never felt more isolated. The fault lines in his parents' marriage started to quake. Summer was more distant than ever. And at home with his family now more than ever, he seemed more alone than ever before.

He inhaled sharply. He was thankful he wasn't out being dragged on terrifying, life-threatening escapades, but now felt as if his home where he used to return to for some comfort when Rick was around and where he could barely get away from now that he was gone was the real horrible thing he wanted to escape from. His parents fighting, Summer's distance, the unspoken feeling that no one really wanted him around made it almost impossible the breathe. No one paid attention to him or seemed to care. Rick might have been using him, but at least he was wanted. Now there was no one.

Furthermore, without someone to fix his grades, his C's and D's had become D's and F's with few people extending a helping hand. Not that he was entirely sure it would matter considering he hardly had the energy to get out of bed in the morning. He bit his lip. The only thing he wanted in the world right now was someone to talk to, and the one person he maybe could have was gone.

Wiping his eyes, he hurriedly he rose from the door and ran to the dresser at the end of his room. He did have one thing. Wrenching the bottom drawer out, he tore through it's contents, feeling fabric from metal through teary eyes. It had to be here. Biting his lip, his heart seemed to be doing somersaults in his chest. Where was it? Finally his hand hit a cold, metallic surface and he quickly yanked the contraption from the bottom of the drawer and crawled to his bed, crossing his legs under him.

He couldn't get quite a good look at the thing, but he could tell it was cubed with a radiating purple button on top. It seemed to be sturdy enough. He picked it up in his hands and pulled it closer to his face so he could see. A small note rested at the front. He tore the letter from the box and blinking the tears from his eyes, read it. Barely legible, inky writing in all caps lettering read:

"Hey Morty. You know when to use this."

His core was icy with anxiety. He could hardly keep his fingers grasped on the note, setting it down, he was shaking so much. He fidgeted on his bed, staring at the box. Could he do it? Was it worth it? He worried maybe it wasn't bad enough to try to talk to Rick about it. What if it only worked once? He exhaled slowly through pursed lips.

His eyes looked over his room again, not really taking anything in as much as he scrutinized it. Suddenly he seemed to be in a daze. The walls of his room seemed to shift around him and that his bed was rocking. What if it only worked once? He tried to calm his down and slowly got up from his bed and put the lock on his door and then back to his bed. It seemed surreal to him almost.

Several times he lifted a hand to press the button, but each time dropping it back to his side as if he wasn't sure if he really wanted to use it. Did he really want to talk to Rick right now? His gut wrenched.

Finally he lifted a hand, staring at the thing through blurred vision with a bit lip and butterflies in his stomach, not really sure if this real life. It was now or never. Closing his eyes and catching his breath in his throat, he slammed his open palm on the glowing button and then

Nothing.